Now and Forever
by Clockworksoldiergirl
Summary: Aelin is sick of glass slippers and gowns. Her happily ever after was never meant to be. Sure she found her mate but that isn't enough for her. There is a war going on and she's stuck in her castle planning her wedding with Rowan. She can't stay put. Not when the fire in her blood is singing for war and she longs for the feel of a blade in her hand. (Sequel to What would have been)
1. Glass slippers and Gowns

**A/N: **

**This is the sequel to my story, What would have been. I hope you like it.**

**If you have read, What would have been, welcome back and thank you so much for your support.**

**Aelin:**

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius usually liked shopping but this was torture. Being dragged through a marketplace by heavily armed guards kind of put a damper on fun. The summer sun shone down, bringing with it a blistering heat and a wind that smelled of dead pine needles and hot pavement. Sunbeams filtered through nylon shade sails strung above venders carts and shouts echoed through the marketplace. People promoting their wares and haggling over prices, mingling with the calls of exotic birds and other manner of strange animals .Beside her, Elide glared at Lorcan's back. "Let's give him the slip." She muttered to Aelin. "Don't even think about it." The Fae male warned. Elide cursed superhuman fae hearing under her breath. " I can still hear you." Lorcan said without looking back. "Elide," Aelin said, with a wicked grin, "I like this vicious streak. I wish I got to see it more often."

Lysandra fanned herself with a silver silk fan. "Why can't we go wedding dress shopping in winter!" She complained.

"Maybe because the wedding is in Autumn?!" Aedion said rolling his eyes. Lysandra shrugged and continued fanning herself against the heat. "We could have just done this last winter," She said. "It's not my fault that Quinn put off taking us!" Aedion protested. Up ahead Quinn, her uncles captain of the guard, turned around to glare at Aedion. Aedion looked away quickly, pretending to have an extreme fascination with a nearby stall, then realising that it was displaying womens undergarments and quickly averting his eyes. Aelin pulled a paper bag out from a hidden pocket in her gown and peered inside. "Oh darn! My chocolate melted." She offered the bag to Rowan who was walking beside her. He wrinkled his nose at her and shot her a disbelieving look. He wasn't that different from the first time that she had met him three years ago. His hair was a little shaggier, in desperate need of a trim. His tattoos were still as brutal as ever and he still wore his tunic with his hatchet at his side. Aelin shrugged and offered the bag to Elide, who took one gratefully. "I won't make it through this day without sugar." She said.

"Why do you need to be here anyway?" Lysandra asked the Fae males grumpily, she glared at Rowan. "You're not even supposed to see the dress until the wedding." Rowan shrugged. "With the war between Linea and Ardarlan brewing we need to be cautious because as a known ally of Ardarlan they could try to assassinate Aelin. Also she's the future queen of Terrasen, she has a lot of potential enemies." Aelin rolled her eyes. "Enemies, Shmenemies. They can stuff it."

"Don't be so dismissive." Quin warned. "It's a legitimate threat to the crown." Aelin and Lysandra both gave him unimpressed looks. In truth, Aelin missed fighting, with her upcoming wedding to Rowan, court politics, and the general rush of things, she barely had time to visit the training room anymore. It was getting depressing. She missed the rush of fighting and the heavy weight of a blade in one's hand. She never carried weapons anymore. (There was no place to hide them in a gown.) And she had lost her edge, (Seriously, if someone had jumped her right at that moment, she wouldn't have been able to put a fight.) She didn't think she could take it anymore.

…..

Aelin knelt before her uncles throne with her head bowed and her eyes closed. "I have a request I would make of you uncle." She said. They had been through this multiple times before but she was determined to get her way. "Spit it out," Orlon said impatiently. "I want to join the war." Aelin said imploringly. "You know I can fight and-" "No Aelin." Her uncle interrupted wearily. "We have been over this- We need you here-"

"No one needs me here." Aelin said, her voice rising as her temper flared. "All I do is plan parties and rehearse my vows. They need me **there. **Please let me go to Dorian, Chaol and Nehemia, I know I can help them." "Enough!" Orlon boomed, his voice echoing throughout the empty hall. He stood to his full height and glared down at her. "That is the end of that Aelin. You shall not go and that is final." All of Aelin's fire died abruptly. "If you just send me with the troops, I can make a difference. I know I can." She felt tears well up behind her eyes but blinked them back. She would show no weakness in front of her uncle. "No." Orlon said firmly, his voice quiet again. He slumped back in his throne and suddenly he looked tired and frail, as if the years had finally caught up with him. "No." He closed his eyes and for the first time, Aelin didn't see her uncle, the King. She saw a tired old man who had shouldered too much responsibility for too long. "If its travel you wish for, after the wedding I shall send you to Queen Maeve. And you can spend the winter in Wenlyn." "What I want is to fight." Aelin said fiercely, getting to her feet. She turned on her heel, hair flying behind her, and stalked from the room.

….

Back in her bedroom, Aelin fumed and raged. The fire in her blood growing hotter with each passing second. She cursed the war and politics and being apart from her friends for so long. She missed Dorian and Nehemia. They couldn't even come to see her wedding, they were so busy with the war. Aelin looked to her bookshelf. Most of the book there were ones that Dorian had sent to her. And on top[ of the shelf there was an oil painting of Dorian, Nehemia, Elide, Chaol and herself. A sharp pang raced through her and she cried out. Then the world was burning. Fire raced out of her and she bent over her knees, falling to the floor in pain. Tongues of flame raced around the room. Incinerating, destroying, eating anything in its path. It raced along the floor and up the bookshelves, licking its way up the spines. The carpet went up in flames and Aelin was drowning in a sea of fire. The bed caught alight and then it was all but a pillar of red and gold. 'Mala help me' Aelin thought. She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself down but she ended up just inhaling heat. 'I can't control it.' She choked on her own magic. Gods, she couldn't _breathe._ Then all of a sudden the fire stopped. It disappeared along with all the air in the room with a soft. _Thwump. _And then the oxygen was back and Aelin sucked in greedy mouthfuls of it. A steady hand pressed down on her back and started rubbing slow soothing circles. 'Rowan' She thought, and leaned into his warmth. Her mate put his arms around her and hugged her. She turned her face into his shoulder and let the tears fall. "I can't do this anymore, Rowan."

…...

**Rowan:**

"I know." He said quietly. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to her feet. He turned her so her face was buried in his chest and bent his face into her neck. "I know." He murmured into her skin. "This is killing me." She told him. He pulled away and held her at and arms length. Gods she was gaunt. Her hair was drab and she was thin. There were dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she was being eaten up from the inside out. Her eyes were empty and hollow and the spark that made her who she was was completely gone. He knelt and wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her torso. She bent her head over his shoulders. "I believe in you, brat." He said. "Do what your heart says." He felt the vibrations as she laughed weakly. "Thanks, buzzard." He stood and took her hand. "Why don't we go down to the training room. Best two out of three?"

"You're on" She said, wiping at her eyes.

….

**Aelin:**

That night, Aelin packed her bag. She put in gowns and tunics and books and weapons all in one leather satchel. She snuck down to the kitchen and stole some fruit and dried meat and she put that in too. Then she opened the window and peered outside. Below the rest of the castle loomed far below and from her vantage point in her tower bedroom, it was all dizzyingly high. The lights from the guards torches bobbed back and forth as they patrolled the walkways and parapets. Ducking back into her room she fastened a rope around the leg of the charred bed and threw it. It whistled through the air and fell out the open window. Aelin took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Then she took a running jump out the window and caught the rope on her way down. Her body slammed against the stones. Then she began to climb down. She was going to war.

…..

High above, two figures watched the princess flee the castle. Leaving behind glass slippers and gowns for blood and blades. They watched her vault over walls and twirl out of the way of patches of firelight. They leaned on the windowsill with bated breath as her shadowy figure reached the top of the castle wall and turned to see her home, one last time. Then she dropped over the other side and was gone from sight. "Godspeed, Aelin Galathynius." Fenrys murmured. Beside him, Evalin Ashryver pressed her mouth to her clasped hands and whispered, "Be safe, my Fireheart."

**S/A/N: Please review with constructive ****criticism****. **** I hope you liked it.**


	2. Off to War

The castle was in uproar. The princess was gone. Servants flew through the hallways in a panic, following the orders that the royals and court officials were barking at them. Linen baskets and food were forgotten and the hallways were much too condensed with rushing bodies to walk through. The only two who did not seem concerned were Rowan Whitethorn and Evalin Ashryver, though no one noticed in the frantic rush of searching for the missing princess. Alarm bells might as well have been sounding through the kingdom because by late morning, everybody knew. Aelin Ashryver had been kidnapped by pirates with a vendetta. She had been sold away to one of her uncles old enemies. She had fled the castle after an attempted murder. Some of the theories were pretty ridiculous. What almost no one assumed was that the princess had simply quit acting like a royal and reverted to her wild ways. Joining the war was exactly the kind of stupid thing Aelin Ashryver Galathynius would do. Even when her life was at stake. Especially when her life was at stake. Though there was another figure missing from the castle too, although no one knew or cared enough to notice.

**Aelin: **

The woods were playing tricks on her. She paced through, as silent as a doe and kept looking around. She hadn't stopped walking since she left the palace, only slowing once to grab a handful of berries off a nearby bush. She could only hope that they weren't poisonous. In the silent rustling of the leaves she could have sworn that she heard the sound of giant footfalls, like some enormous predator was stalking her. When she could no longer hear the burbling of the stream, she thought the wind sounded like the breaths of some huge dog. That was impossible of course. These woods were protected by the Lord of the North. No predators were allowed to roam here. She was tired and hungry and sore. And she was _pissed_. What had she been thinking? To disobey her uncle's order? Then she felt like slapping herself. This was exactly why she had left. She was becoming too passive. Too much like… like… It didn't matter. It was too late to turn back and she had no great desire to return to acting like a doll. Finally, exhaustion got the better of her and she slumped down on a low hanging branch to rest. She sat as the sun rose higher in the sky, filtering down through the canopy and creating tiny spots of warmth on her skin. Her eyelids began to close. She yanks them open again. Determined to stay awake, but eventually her body stopped fighting and she drifted off to sleep.

…..

When Aelin woke, it was to the feeling of sandpaper scraping over her cheek. The second sensation was that of slimy wetness. She sat bolt upright, her hand going to her face. She wiped the liquid away "Ugh." She blinked and squinted around. Stretching her sore stiff muscles. She yelped as a face loomed into her vision. Except, it wasn't a human face. It was that of a wolf with a coat the colour of fresh snowfall. Aelin went very still. The wolf cocked its head from side to side. Its tongue lolling out in a smug grin. She hardly dared to breathe. She watched the beast and it watched her. Aelin thought it looked almost as though the creature was rolling its eyes at her. She could have sworn the look on its face was...Cocky. There was no other way to describe it. Then she looked closer. It couldn't be… Aelin stood and kicked a clump of dirt at him. "Sod off!" The Fenrys/wolf huffed a laugh. "Joke's on you." Aelin told him. "I finally know what your Fae form is. All of your efforts of trying to hide it, all to waste." Fenrys lifted his shoulders and let them drop in a massive shrug. She sighed. " I'm not coming back if that's what you want. Dorian and Nehemia need me. There is even a rumor that Ansel of Briarcliff is joining the war effort." She stuck her nose in the air. "I have no intention to go back to planning weddings. Not when I am so much better at planning massacres." She picked up her satchel and started marching in the direction she hoped was Ardarlan. Which way was South? There came a cough behind her. She sighed and whirled around to face Fenrys. "What do you want now?!" He lifted a massive paw and pointed in the opposite direction. Aelin glanced up at the placement of the sun. Darn. "Thank you." She said stiffly and marched south in the direction Fenrys was pointing. He gave a wolfy chuckle, falling into step behind her. Aelin sped up her pace but he lengthened his strides to match hers. Who was she kidding, he could outrun her any day. She stopped and whirled to face him. "If you intend to come with me , forget it!" Fenrys raised a huge eyebrow at her. She glared at him and tapped her foot. She wasn't going to take another step until he left. Fenrys shrugged, turned and began walking in the direction of Adarlan. After a few steps he stopped and turned his huge head back toward her, dark eyes impatient. Aelin heaved a sigh and started after him.

**Lysandra:**

Dinner was a stiff affair. The courtiers were twitchy and tense. The whole table kept periodically glancing at the door as if they expected Aelin to burst in and plonk down in her seat. Her chair beside Elide was untouched. Nobody had moved it. Nobody had sat in it. Someone had even laid out cutlery and a china plate. It was actually rather depressing. Lysandra looked to her right. Elide was staring hard at Rowan. Her forehead crinkled . Her lips slightly parted. Lysandra elbowed her. "I know that look" She hissed. " That's your problem solving face." Elide glanced over at her. " He knows something." She gestured at Rowan.

"How do you figure?"

Elide shot her a despairing look. "Look at him! He doesn't seem worried at all. You would think he would be frantic, what with her being his mate and all." Lysandra snuck a glance at Rowan. He did seem supremely unconcerned. A worry line had developed on his forehead, but otherwise, that was it. In fact he looked happy and content for the first time in ages. He glanced up at the two of them, as if sensing their attention. Then he glanced down immediately. "He may be a damn good fighter." Elide muttered in her ear. " But he sure as hell is a crappy actor." Lysandra snorted. The sharp and abrupt sound caught the attention of the court. The whole table looked up at the two of them. Elide flushed a pale pink but Lysandra smiled a smile that was all teeth and vicious humour. Everyone immediately found somewhere else to look. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence with heads down, staring at plates. Every so often someone would glance up and then look quickly down again, bit still the only sound in the room would be that of clinking cutlery and rustling clothes. When the meal was done, everyone filed off to different tasks. The search for the missing princess. Consoling the townsfolk who lived in Orynth. Elide followed Rowan as he marched out of the dining room, dragging a startled Lysandra along with her. "Let's go." Elide hissed. She dragged Lysandra down the hall by the wrist. Both girls skirts swirling behind them. They followed Rowan into the training room, to which he left the door ajar. Elide yanked Lysandra inside and closed the door with the barest of clicks. Rowan whirled around, his Fae hearing alerting him to their presence. He relaxed when he realised it was the two of them. "Oh. It's you. What do you want?"

"Where is she?!" Elide demanded. Rowan ran a hand through his hair. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Lysandra scoffed. "You liar!" Rowan glared at her. "I'm not lying." He said with a hint of a snarl in his voice." Lysandra didn't back down and neither did the usually soft spoken girl beside her. The one who was currently fuming with rage. "Yes you are, you aggravating Fae bastard."

"You know where she is." The dark eyed polymath accused. " Don't even try to deny it!" She snarled quietly when Rowan opened his mouth yet again. "Where is she?!" Elide was practically shaking with rage. All the fight seemed to go out of Rowan in an instant. He slumped on the railing around the edge of the arena. "You know." He said quietly. Then louder. "You know where she's gone."  
"Oh gods." Elide's eyes filled with tears. And Lysandra suddenly understood. Mala, she was stupid. How had she not seen it before? "How could you?!" Elide yelled. "How could you do this?" She was practically weeping. "You have sent her off to die!" The last word ended with a screech. Rowan's face screwed up in fury. "You understand nothing! You think I _wanted_ to send her think that every second that we are apart, my heart doesn't feel like it was being ripped to pieces?"

"Then why?!" Elide half screamed back. She knew why Aelin had gone, of course. There was never a conflict she could refuse, but she was incredulous that Rowan had let her leave without a fight.

"Because she was dying!" All three of them fell silent. "What?" Lysandra's question was but a broken whisper. Rowan breathed heavily. "She was dying. All her repressed emotions, all the seconds of nothing cramped up inside her and they were feeding her fire. Her fire was eating her up inside. And seeing her wither away inside was killing me." His eyes softened. "She was born a free soul. Just like her fire. And you can't put fire in a cage, it is either going to melt the bars or snuff out completely." He sighed as if the weight of the world was crushing his shoulders. "So I had to let her go."

Lysandra turned on her heel and strode out of the room. Leaving Elide and Rowan. "Where are you going?" Rowan called after her. She didn't bother looking over her shoulder.

"To pack. I think you know where I am going."

"Wait." She felt Elide hurry up beside her. She raised her eyebrows at the other girl. And smiled.

**Elide:**

Elide folded a cream taffeta gown and slid it into a small satchel along with a few daggers and rations. She stripped out of the gown she was wearing and donned a brown leather tunic. There was a knock on the door and she opened it to find Lorcan on the threshold. "Hi." She said, a little breathlessly. "Hi." He said back. "I heard what happened."

Elide sighed. "Rowan filled you in." Lorcan rubbed the back of his neck. "Actually, they all did." He stepped aside to reveal Lysandra, Rowan, and Aedion on the threshold behind him.

"Huh." Elide retrieved her satchel off the bed. "Are you guys ready to go?" All nodded confirmation.

"Are you sure we won't be seen?" Aedion asked. Lysandra shrugged. "Most of the council members are in a meeting and I distracted Orlon and Rhoe by telling them that there was a brawl in the barracks. We have at the most, a five minute window to get out."  
"What about Evalin?" Aedion asked. "What about me?" Asked a voice from behind him. Evalin Ashryver stood behind them all with her hands on her hips. The whole group jumped. "Its okay." Evalin said softly. "I know what you're doing. I know where you're going. Please, help my daughter and her friend."

"Who-"

"Fenrys." Lorcan cursed under his breath. "Of course."

Evalin laughed. "You better get going. Otherwise it will be too late."

So Elide stepped out of her room and shut the door.

And then off the five friends went to war.

**Aelin:**

There was a hole in her heart. A hole where Rowan used to be. But he wasn't here now. So she closed her eyes and tried to picture his face. The curves of his cheekbones. The way his eyes sparkled when he looked at her. They reached the glass castle in the wee hours of the morning when the sun was still stretching, the sunbeams only just peeking over the horizon, tinting the sun a rosy red. They crept into the palace grounds, ducking and darting through patches of shadows to avoid the guards patrolling the perimeter of the castle. They reached the bottom of a tower and turned to Fenrys. "Stay here." She warned. He whined but slipped backwards into the darkness of the tower. Aelin nodded. Slung her bag off her shoulder, and dug her feet into the cracks in the tower bricks. She began to climb. Her arms were shaking as she reached the top. Thankfully there was an open window and she slid her body through the space. Dropping silently to the carpet, she looked around. The fire was lit against the morning chill and around the room was scattered bookshelves and cushy armchairs. In one right beside the fire sat a boy with raven locks tumbling over his face as he turned the page of the novel he was reading. He sat with his legs crossed and his back perfectly straight. Some things never changed. "You read like a fine lady." She said quietly. The boy froze. He turned in his seat until he was facing her. A slow smile spread across his face. "It's about time you got here." Was all Dorian Havillard said.


	3. Heartsick

**A/N:  
This chapter is dedicated to ****THGHPTVD.2** **.**

**Thank you so much for your positive reviews. They were the highlight of my day. (I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations)**

**Also: Possessive Lorcan. I am so sorry. (Not really) **

**Aelin:**  
Aelin was tired and sore. Her back ached and her legs shook. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face. Her skin felt like sandpaper and there was a nasty taste in her mouth. She was fairly certain it was the berries. Considering the fact that she had just thrown up in Dorians' toilet. She wiped her mouth with the back of a shaking hand and leaned back against the cool tiles of the wall. Through the window the sun was beginning to dip on the horizon, painting the sky with reds and oranges and yellows.

There was a tap at the door and Dorian called out, "Are you okay?" from the other side. He had always been a little _too_ good at knowing when something was wrong. "I'm fine." Aelin replied but even to her own ears, her voice sounded drawn and weak. "I'm coming in." Dorian told her. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. His hand was covering his eyes, which would have been a sweet gesture if he hadn't been peeking through his fingers. "Dorian!" She protested, but there was the faintest hint of laughter in her voice. Dorian took his hand away from his face with a shrug. "Sorry." He said in a tone that did not in any way display regret. He crouched next to her on the floor and placed a hand on her back. He began rubbing slow circles on her spine. "What's the matter?" He asked. Aelin shook her head slowly. "I ate some poisonous berries." Her heart did a slow twist and she clutched at her chest. Dorian's brows drew close together. "Oh, gods, You're so pale. When exactly did you eat them?" Aelin frowned. "Ugh. It must have been back when I left the castle. Halfway through Oakwald forest."

Dorian paused and shook his head in confusion. "Aelin, that's impossible." Aelin moaned and leaned her head against Dorian's arm. "That's not what my stomach is telling me"

"It can't have been the berries. Oakwald is a sacred forest. It belongs to the Lord of the North. There are no poisonous plants or pests or diseases." Aelin banged her head against Dorian's arm. "How do you explain _thi_s then?" Her breath was becoming exceedingly laboured.

**Dorian:**

There was a scratching at the door, Dorian's head snapped up and Aelin glanced toward the noise weakly. Through the doorway stalked a beast with fur the colour of powder fine snow and eyes like a September sky. The wolf glared at Dorian hostilely and Dorian's hand flew to his waist, reaching for a blade that wasn't there. The boy and beast stared at each other for a second, frozen. After a few moments, to Dorian's surprise, Aelin gave a raspy laugh from where she slumped at his side. "Territorial bastard." She muttered. Dorian frowned at her, "Aelin, do you not see…" He gestured widely to the wolf, not daring to turn his back. "I see it," Aelin promised, snickering weakly. The wolf stalked toward them and to Dorian's utter astonishment, bent its nose toward Aelin curiously, letting out a pathetic sounding wimper. She held her hand out and the wolf came to her. Sniffing her fingers then shoving its head into her hand. Aelin weakly dug her fingers into its pale fur and closed her eyes again. The wolf gave an alarmed huff and turned its body to catch her weight as she fell forwards. It carefully lowered itself to the ground, taking the fatigued princess with it, until they were curled up together on the floor. Dorian gaped openly. The wolf wined and nudged the princess with its nose. Aelin struggled to open her eyes. "This," Her voice was thick with exhaustion. "This is Fenrys."

The wolf looked up at Dorian and the prince gaped, it was a Fae. How had he not seen it before? The wolf was much too big to be a natural creature. And its eyes were much too intelligent and bright. "Is-is this your mate?" Dorian asked quietly.

Aelin snorted and the wolf-Fenrys, threw back his head and let out a barking noise that sounded a lot like laughter.

Aelin shook her head tiredly. "No. My Rowan…" She trailed off as her eyes closed for the last time and her breath evened out. Dorian exhaled slowly and then made to scoop the sleeping girl up in his arms but Fenrys whipped his head around and snarled at him. Snapping at his fingers. Dorian yanked his arms back and held them up in surrender. "Relax, big guy. I'm just going to put her on the bed so she doesn't have to sleep on the bathroom floor." The next time he reached for Aelin, the wolf didn't protest but did however, keep an extremely close eye on Dorian as he carried the girl into his bedchamber and tucked her under the covers. The white Fae then proceeded to jump onto the bed and curl around her feet.

Dorian watched a bead of sweat trace its way down Aelin's neck and frowned with concern. There was something seriously wrong with the Princess. He picked up his book from beside the fireplace and sat down in his chair to read, determined not to close his eyes.

**Elide:**

It had been five days since they left Orynth and Elide was about ready to collapse. Her foot throbbed and with every step, her leg shook. Nobody had noticed her pain so she kept silent. Rowan had a one track mind. His eyes were always focused on the horizon. He was always the first one up in the morning and the last one to fall asleep. Elide doubted that their voices even registered when they tried to talk to him. Aedion and Lysandra had a running line of albeit grim banter. They kept making eyes at each other and stewing in each others scents. Elide could practically smell it. And it was extremely distracting, judging by how many times Lorcan whipped his head around to glare at them. Oh, Right. Lorcan. Lorcan was brooding. He hardly spoke and even when he did it was just grunts or clipped sentences. Elide tried her gods-damned best to try to ignore him but she could feel the aggression rolling off him. So Elide walked a little behind the rest of the group, keeping up. But not really. She missed Aelin desperately. She always counted on her best friend for social support. Whenever Elide stood on the sidelines, Aelin was usually there with a hand on her wrist. Yanking her into the middle of it all. But Aelin wasn't here now. So Elide faded slowly into the background. Watching the way she had been taught. The night air was crisp and sweet and Elide willed herself to stay awake, wincing as she stumbled over a rock. "STOP THAT!" Lorcans sudden yell echoed through the silence and off the trees and distant mountains. The whole travelling party jumped. Rowan looked even more pissed off than usual. Elide took a second to realise that he was glaring at her. She blinked at him for a second. "Just stop it." Lorcan's voice was much quieter but still held mountains of unchecked anger. "And what exactly am I doing?" Elide was at her wits end. She was tired and sore and so _fed up_ with running around cleaning up other people's messes. "We're taking a break." Lorcan ordered. "A few hours at least." Elide tried to protest, as did Aedion but Lysandra slung her pack off her back. "Lorcan's right. We won't be doing Aelin any favours if we walk ourselves into the ground."

Rowan snarled and took a step toward Lorcan. "We can't stop now. What if she needs us!"

Lorcan snarled right back. " She didn't need us when she ran away without telling us, did she? Now sit your ass down and rest!" The last part was said with such authority that Rowan actually looked startled. And he actually did as he was told. "You can take the first watch" Lorcan ordered. Then he turned toward Elide. "You. Come here." There was such a snarl in his voice that she actually complied. Her feet carrying her forward against her will. Lorcan took her satchel from her and threw it onto the ground at her feet. He dug through his own pack and pulled out a tin of salve. "Sit." He ordered. Only when she had eased herself to the ground, did he throw himself down beside her.

He unscrewed the tin, rolled up the leg of her trousers and began applying the salve with almost gentle fingers. Elide sucked in a breath and tilted her head upwards so she could look at the stars. The moon was high and stray clouds drifted across the sky like they were trying to chase the sun.

When Lorcan was done, Elide expected him to let her go, but instead, he lay down on a bedroll that Lysandra had stretched out for him and pulled Elide down with him. A heavy arm settled over her chest and two heavy legs intertwined with hers. Lorcan's breath settled on her neck and his body, pressed up against hers, cocooned her with warmth. "You smell like pain." He murmured against her hair, lips almost brushing her skin. Elide shot a pleading glance at Lysandra but the other girl only gave her a helpless look and a sympathetic wince. Not that Elide missed the grateful glance that her friend threw Lorcan's way either. Elide let out a growl, as close to the sound a Fae would make as a human could ever get.

She was sick and tired of people treating her like she was fragile, like she was some china doll that could shatter at even the smallest touch. She knew her friends didn't mean to do it, but quite often, they either all but forgot she existed or hovered over her like she was terminally ill or something. But she was too tired to protest too much right at that moment. Lorcan's arms were warm and she was so very tired.

**Aelin:**

Aelin shucked off her dirty tunic and pants onto Dorian's bathroom floor and stepped under the spray of hot water. She began rinsing herself and all the dirt and grime of a weeks travel went washing down the drain, momentarily turning the water a dark brown. The exhaustion lingered, but not nearly as bad as the night before, though there was still that unexplainable pain in her chest. She stepped out from under the water and snatched one of Dorian's fluffy towels off the rack beside her. When she was dry, she stepped into the gown Dorian had brought her. The servant at the door had looked extremely confused while handing it to him and it had been all Aelin could do to stop the giggles from erupting. The dress was beautiful though simple. Red ombre silk lightening to orange at her midriff and thighs then darkish yellow at the bottom. It looked as though she were wearing a gown made of flames. It moved like fire did too, swishing around her ankles and flaring out when she took a step. And that's exactly what it did as she stalked down the palace hallway. Dorian to her right. Fenrys in wolf form trailing a little behind. He still hadn't reverted back to human and Aelin was becoming a bit concerned. They encountered no servants in the halls and it gave Aelin a little twinge of pleasure. _She _wanted to be the only one who announced that she had arrived. The reached the doors to the dining chamber and Dorian dropped back a little. Gesturing to the know with a wicked grin. He knew she had always had a flair for dramatics. Aelin placed her hand on the door, and then pushed it open with a bang. The whole court looked up at her in shock as she took a step forward. Gaping at her, at the gigantic white wolf at her side. She reached down and knotted her fingers in Fenrys' fur. The king gaped at her from his place at the head of the table. Many of the Ardarlan courtiers were white faced with shock. Chaol had his hand frozen halfway to his mouth, bread roll forgotten. And Nehemia, _Nehemia _was gripping the arms of her chair, knuckles white on the armrests. "Hello." Aelin greeted the room with a dip of the head and an evil smile. "I hope you didn't think you could start a war without me."

**S/A/N:**

**I am not really sure if anyone reads the authors notes, (I mean, why would you want to listen to** me **talk.) But I am really sorry that I haven't posted sooner. I had to take a break from writing for health reasons. I am really not confident in my writing ability And sometimes I get really stressed about stuff. So, yeah. Sorry.**


	4. Arrival

**AN:**

**OH MY GOD. I ACTUALLY POSTED ANOTHER CHAPTER! ARE YOU GUYS AS ASTOUNDED AS I AM?!**

**And just to clear up any confusion, this story is an AU and a sequel to my story, 'What Would Have Been'. If you don't know what that's about. It's a story that is based on a dream that Maeve showed Aelin when she was in the iron coffin. What would have happened if Aelin had grown up in Orynth, and she had met Rowan there. This can be read as a stand alone AU however. **

**(And, seriously, I am notorious for procrastination.) I am so sorry that I haven't updated sooner. I have been really busy working on some other stuff. **

**Aelin:**

Aelin ate in silence as the entire Ardarlian court stared at her. In truth, she was ravenous, but she managed to restrain herself and take tiny dainty bites, using the cutlery instead of her fingers as she would have preferred. It was kind of disconcerting, all those pairs of eyes on her. But Fenrys, in wolf form beside her, growled at anyone who stared for too long. Eventually, when she had finished her food, Aelin pushed her chair out from the table, wood on stone scraping in the silence.

"Thank you." Aelin said, leveling her gaze at the king. "But I must retire. I desperately need rest." She bowed shallowly to the king. "There is no need to aid me. I will have a servant show me to a room." The amount of insolence packed into that sentence was enough to make the courtiers let out a collective gasp of shock, but the king just nodded. Aelin stalked out of the room, heels clicking on the stone, Fenrys stalking behind her, his claws scraping on the floor.

The halls were noticeably more occupied than they had been when Aelin had strolled through earlier that morning. The servants of the Ardarlian king scattered out of her way, carrying laundry baskets and plates of food. Aelin couldn't tell if they were running from Fenrys or the shit eating grin set in place on her face. It was her default expression.

In the corridor behind her, the sound of footsteps came running up behind her and a heavy weight fell on her back. She grunted and stumbled into the wall, reaching out a hand to steady herself. The arms around her chest squeezed and then the weight slipped off her back. "I missed you so much." Nehemia's rich, smooth accent reached her ears. Aelin turned around and threw her arms around her friend.

Nehemia hadn't changed much in the last few years. She was still slight, with dark cocoa skin and dark birdlike eyes. Her dark hair fell in elaborate braids tipped with gold. She still carried herself in a certain way, as if the world had placed some burden upon her shoulders and she was struggling to hold her head up.

Anyone who didn't know her well wouldn't notice it. But there was a weariness in her eyes that seemed permanently ingrained into her being. She was a stunning warrior queen. Nehemia tugged Aelin into a nearby nook. Ẅhat are you doing here?" She asked urgently. "You _can't _be here!" Aelin snorted. "I thought you would be happier to see me."

Nehemia shook her head which made her braids rattle. "Not here. Not now."

Aelin was instantly on alert. "Why- What's happened?"

Nehemia was about to respond when the muffled noise of boots on stone rang out behind them.

"Princess." Said a cool voice.

"Chaol." Aelin didn't even have to turn around to know it was him. "Call me that one more time and the next time we spar I will put you on your ass in front of your entire guard." Chaol snorted. "It's good to have you back Aelin."

She turned to hug him and found that she could no longer reach. He had grown drastically over the last few years and he was now at least a head and a half taller than her. She had to stand on tiptoes to put her arms around her neck. Chaol hugged her back, then lifted her up and placed her back on the floor.

"How did you get here?!" He asked, a slightly confused grin on his face. "In your last letter to me you said that you weren't allowed to come."

At Aelin's innocent gaze, he sighed. "You snuck out didn't you?"

"I snuck out." She confirmed.

Chaol managed a groan. "You really shouldn't have come."

He looked down at Fenrys. " I like your dog."

Aelin was about to say, _Wait. Don't!_ But Chaol had already stooped to pet Fenrys. The fae growled at him and bared his fangs. Chaol jumped back with a yell. Nehemia shook her head. "That is no dog. That is a fae, you-." She called him a word in Eyllwe that Aelin didn't translate because it was both unflattering and rude. Chaol didn't understand but he got the gist and barely refrained from sticking his tongue out at the princess. Aelin stifled another yawn behind her hand. Suddenly, she didn't feel quite as content. That niggling feeling in her stomach had returned. A wave of exhaustion rolled over her. "I'm tired." She told her friends, her voice thick. How, she didn't know. It had barely been an hour since she had woken up. "I need to sleep."

Nehemia didn't say another word. She just took her friend by the arm and led her down the hall. To the princesses' own room, Aelin would have assumed if she had been awake enough to form coherent thought. She didn't even bother to take the stupid red dress off, just flopped down. The covers were silky and the comforter was stuffed with some kind of feathers and Aelin drifted to sleep.

**Lysandra**

They reached Adarlan on the seventh day of travel, Just as the dawn broke over the glass castle. The first rays of sunlight caught on the crystal spires and refracted beams of light through the city, probably blinding the few birds stupid enough to fly through the sky this early in the morning. The glass wall stood tall and glinted like a freshly cut diamond. The entire party was bone weary.

Hair bedraggled, deep shadowed eyes.

Poor Elide looked like she was about to collapse. Her limp had steadily gotten worse and Lorcan was growing angstier by the minute. He had actually snarled at Aedion when he had tried to take Elide's satchel from her and the dark haired fae shouldered the bag himself, with no shortage of immortal attitude of course. Elide being Elide had growled right back in his face and snatched her bag away from him.

Aedion had been trying his best to keep the team together.

Smiling and cracking jokes but as the days had worn on, he had become angrier and angrier, especially at Rowan who had a one track mind and could not be pulled out of his thoughts for anything.

So Lysandra had gone about on her own.

Collecting the wood and water in the evenings and cooking breakfast in the morning. And as they walked toward the stone part of the Ardarlian castle, Lysandra couldn't help but be so relieved that their journey was over. All she wanted now was to find her friend, have a hot bath, eat her heart out and fall into bed and sleep forever. In that order. The group trudged into the city and people stopped to stare as they passed by. When they got to the castle, a servant immediately led them through the corridors with no other word.

Lysandra hissed to Elide. "This was a bad idea." They're taking us to the king. Elide hummed in agreement, her birdlike eyes darting around. One of the maids that her gaze fell on happened to look up at that moment and recoiled in terror.

Rowan brushed right by her and followed close on the heels of the servant they were following. The guy was nearly running to avoid being trampled by Rowan's combat boots.

They wove through a maze of corridors, Lysandra didn't have Elide level observation skills but she swore that they went up the same flight of stairs twice.

Either the serving boy had no idea where he was going or he was trying to confuse them so if they tried to pull anything they would get lost in the corridors. Lysandra didn't think that they accounted for Fae senses because Lorcan balled his hands into fists and Rowan snapped, " Hurry up."

The servant led them into a long room, it had a throne at the far end.

"Wait here." The servant said, gesturing to the foot of the throne, "I'll summon the king."

Rowan snarled, "We don't have time for this. Where is my mate?!"

To his credit, the servant didn't back down under his fury but instead struggled to keep a calm facade. "I'll fetch the king." He insisted.

The boy turned on his heel and strode for the door. He almost made it too. But it was flung open as if by a freak gust of wind and a girl stepped into the room. For an elated second, Lysandra thought it was Aelin but then she caught a glimpse of fox red hair and her spirits dropped.

The girl was built thin as a whip and what some would call petite but something in her eyes hinted at violence and pain if you dared to cross her. She was armed to the teeth. Two swords strapped across her back, Daggers sheathed up her thighs.

Lysandra suspected that there were many more weapons hidden on her person but if there were, they were not visible. She sent the servant a glare that would have made Aelin proud. "You're relieved." Her voice was raspy and the hints of an accent clung to her word bit Lysandra couldn't figure out, for the life of her what country it was from.

"My lady-" The servant protested, "The king insisted-"

"Silence." The girl held up a hand tipped with long, manicured nails that looked like claws. " I'll take it from here. You are dismissed."

The serving boy sputtered and flailed but with a final hiss, the red haired vixen sent him scrambling out of the room. The girl took a second to glare after him and then turned to survey the company. "Come." She ordered and whirled on her heel and strode down the corridor.

Rowan strode after her without stopping to consult the rest of them, and leaving them to hurry after him. They caught up to the red haired girl and she surveyed them cooly as she walked. "You don't look like much." She said dismissively, turning her gaze to face ahead. "A cripple. A noblewoman. A Prince, and two immortal territorial bastards."

"You've met Aelin." Lysandra noted. The girl nodded, "Oh, we're old friends." Lysandra actually gulped, thinking about a teenage Aelin running around with this girl. THe image was actually terrifying.

"It's good to see you again." Aedion said to her. "Everybody, this is Ansel of Briarcliff."

**S/A/N:**

**Do you guys have any things you want added?**

**Do you think I am switching POV's too much?**

**Can you tell I am actually freaking insecure?**


	5. Insulting Nicknames

**A/N:**

**The card game is one of my own making. It's kind of a play on Last Card. Me and my friends play it all the time so it does work. (Yes I appreciate that they would probably not have had modern playing cards in Erilea, but I am writing this at three am and my brain is officially dead.) **

**Aelin:**

She was strong. She was a warrior. She would never admit defeat. Never give in to her foe.

Dorian slammed a Three of Spades down onto the pile and Aelin snarled in frustration, throwing her own cards down on the table. "King's Ransom." Dorian said smugly, and sure enough, held up the King of Spades. The only card left in his hand. Chaol remained stone faced as ever. They were playing without betting any money but Aelin was still sacrificing her dignity on this game. Chaol collected the cards up, shuffled and then dealt again.

They began to play again.

They sat in silence for a few turns, each placing down a card and then looking to their right.

"I'm winning." Dorian finally said, looking down at his cards.

Chaol rubbed a hand over his face, "I really don't think you understand how this game works."

Fenrys, who had his huge wolf head resting in Aelin's lap, barked a laugh. Aelin looked down at him. " You can change back now, you know." The wolf huffed and lifted its huge shoulders in a shrug. Aelin rolled her eyes and placed a Four of Diamonds down on the pile. Chaol to her right, looked down at his cards and started drawing from the pile. He drew at least five cards until he found something that he could play. Placing the card down he looked at Fenrys. "That's becoming creepy. It's like he is attached to your hip." Aelin ruffled Fenrys' fur.

"Don't worry about it. He's just a big baby."

The wolf bared its teeth but lolled his head to the side to allow Aelin to scratch under his chin.

Dorian threw a Jack on the pile, "Chaol, do you have a king?"

Chaol didn't lose his poker face as he drew a king out of his hand and tossed it to Dorian.

Aelin put a Queen on the pile, "I'll take that King please." She told Dorian.

The dark haired prince groaned and handed her the playing card.

Aelin kept her eyes away from her cards, trying her best not to smile.

She only had one card to get rid of. Chaol apparently had no moves to make because he started picking up at an alarming rate. "This is your fault." Dorian told him. "You have a crappy shuffle."

Chaol glared at him and plonked a joker down on the pile,  
"You're skipping?" Aelin scoffed, " Chicken, be like a woman and pick up." Chaol shook his head, "I'm not planning to lose that badly."

"How do you know you'll lose?" Dorian asked.

"Aelin has an ace." Chaol said.

Aelin put the ace down "I change the suit to Clubs." She said, "not that it matters," and flicked her king onto the table. "King's Ransom!" She crowed. "Also, how did you know?"

Chaol leveled her with a look. " Your Poker face is awful."

They both shot him unimpressed looks. Chaol rolled his eyes. "Also, there's a mirror behind you."

Aelin looked over her shoulder at the offending piece of glass. "Cheat" She accused.

"It didn't make a difference, did it?" Chaol protested, "You still won."

"Hmmm." Aelin sucked on a tooth. Her mind drifted off to other places. She remembered how fervently Aedion cheated when they played these games back home. The good natured bets Lysandra and Lorcan and she put on the matches.

The way all the games seemed to deteriorate into Elide and Rowan steadily trying to beat each other, (because, lets face it, with those two playing, the rest of them didn't stand a chance.)

And that just made her think of her friends. And, gods she missed them.

Especially Rowan.

"Wake up, sleepy." Dorian waved his hand in front of her face. Aelin jerked back to reality.

"Sorry." She said, scrubbing a hand over her face. "I guess I'm just tired, s'all."

Fenrys cocked his big head to the side, and a moment later, Aelin heard footsteps echo through the halls outside. The door was pushed open and Ansel of Briarcliff strode in. She took in the cards on the table. Dorian's expression and grinned wickedly, "I would have smoked you all." she said.

Aelin scoffed, "Yeah, right!"

Ansel rolled her eyes, "Wouldn't be too rude to me. I have a package for you." She turned and beckoned someone inside the room.

Alin's world shrunk down to a single point and all she could see was, Rowan, Rowan, Rowan. She didn't even notice when all her other friends walked into the room, she just stared at him. And he stared at her.

And then she was flying towards him, leaping over the table and sending the playing cards flying and Chaol sprawling out of his chair.

She locked her legs around Rowan's waist, her arms wrapping around his neck, her mouth locking on his and she just clung tight. He stumbled back into the wall and they stayed there for a minute, each kissing the other like they hadn't seen them for years.

A throat was cleared in the background. A cough that sounded like Aedion and a retching noise that sounded like Ansel. Aelin didn't pull away, didn't do anything that would stop Rowan from roving his hands up and down her back, but she unwrapped an arm from his neck and showed them her fingers. Or rather, just one of them.

"Rude." Dorian muttered, and Rowan pulled away from her with a shaky laugh.

Aelin unwrapped her legs and dropped to the floor, brushing at her disheveled hair and fixing her rumpled clothes. She took in her friends. They all looked bone weary and disheveled. Aedion was leaning on Lysandra's shoulder. Lorcan was hovering about Elide like a vulture. As silent and pissy as ever.

"Ahem." Aelin motioned to Rowan. "Ansel, Dorian, Chaol. This is my mate Rowan, and the Cadre. Lysandra, Elide, Aedion, Mr. Broody Eyebrows in the corner is Lorcan and you have already met Fenrys."

"Is he okay?" Lysandra asked, gesturing to Fenrys. "Why is he a wolf?"

"No idea," Aelin sighed. "We can figure it out later. Anyway, Cadre. This is the childhood gang, Ansel, Dorian, Chaol and you'll meet Nehemia at dinner."

She smiled at her friends. " Now that introductions are over, sit down. I'm going to smoke you all at cards."

…

As it turns out, Aelin did not beat her friends. This time, it was Elide who had the winning hand. She slammed her king down on the table, poker face still painted on her features. "Kings Ransom." She said.

Chaol glared down at his cards. The Fae all looked like they wanted to murder something.

The rest of them were pretty much resigned to their fate, (as mentioned. When Elide and Rowan were playing, they rarely ever won.) All except for Ansel who had not joined them in playing and was sitting in the back of the room, picking her teeth with a small dagger.

Fenrys had apparently taken a shine to the girl and was lounging by her feet, tail curled around the leg of her chair.

She was snickering under her breath. 'Bunch of fools.' Aelin heard her mutter. 'Beaten by a cripple.'

Aelin had known Ansel since they were both in diapers, so she knew that Ansel wasn't actually being rude. It was just tough love. Tough albeit mentally scarring love.

Aelin was more than certain that the girl had already made up insulting nicknames for all present.

Dorian collected up all the cards and filed them into a neat pile with a tap on the table. "Another round?"

Lysandra scoffed. "You think you'd get tired of losing."

Ansel heaved a sigh and got to her feet. "I'm bored of you losers. I'm going to the weapons room. Drowning my sorrows over my lame friends in a pair of Kopis."

Fenrys snapped to his feet too and began trotting after her out the door.

Ansel stopped and turned around to look behind her. "Where do you think you're going Wolfie."

It did not escape Aelin's notice that the nickname was not in fact, _that_ insulting.

"Fenrys?" Lysandra said uncertainly. Even Rowan, who hadn't spoken more than two words since arrival, looked cautious.

Fenrys cocked his huge head to the side then nudged the back of Ansel's legs. She rolled her eyes and strutted out the door with a final, "Later Tools."

Lorcan and Rowan, both of whom had never met, and heard the less mild of the stories about Ansel, looked startled.

"Don't worry," Aelin told them, "You get used to it."

"I think she's gotten worse since the last we saw her." Elide mused.

Chaol snorted. "Oh, she's definitely gotten worse."

"Sooo." Dorian flicked his gaze to Rowan. "You're the guy mated to our Lin-lin?"

Quicker than a whip Aelin snatched a knife out of her boot and buried it, hilt deep in the table.

"Call me that again-" She snarled. "And you die!"

"Lin-lin?" Rowan looked extremely amused.

"Don't even-"

"Oh my god!" Elide laughed. "I forgot about that nickname!"

The rest of the table jeered while Aelin flushed a dark red.  
They continued playing cards, banter and good natured slurs flying around the table as if they were all old friends.

Aelin breathed out a sigh and leaned into Rowan who slipped an arm around her.

She took the time to just relax. Surrounded by her friends and family. Just for a while. Not for too long. After all. This was war.

**A/N: **

**I sincerely apologise for the mess of a kissing scene.**

**Also, Ansel is one of my favourite characters so she will be featured quite a bit.**


	6. Dinner was a Disaster

**A/N: **

**I'm back! And I bring gifts… and updating schedule! Yeah! I will try to get a chapter up every week. (So we'll see how long that lasts.) I hope you are all well and Covid isn't getting you too down. **

**Aelin:**

Dinner later that night was a disaster of epic proportions. Not that there were any problems between the Cadre and Aelin's other friends. It was just that… Well… Aedion, Dorian, Aelin and Lysandra were exchanging lewd jokes that made the courtiers gasp and some of the noblewomen fan their faces like they were about to faint. Lorcan and Rowan were brooding like the vultures they were. Nehemia and Elide were locked in quiet conversation. (That fact seemed to concern everyone more than anything else. Even the King was throwing them nervous looks.) (To be fair. The might very well be plotting his downfall.)

Ansel and Fenrys had not yet made an appearance and Aelin had to wonder _what _in the name of Mala they were doing.

She speared another piece of steak on her fork and pushed out her chair so she could prop her boots on the table. The king stood up with a start. His cutlery clattering down on his plate. His voice was strained and long-suffering when he said, "I would like to welcome our esteemed guests from Terrasen." His voice conveyed neither welcome nor respect. "Thank you for coming to aid us in this war." He raised his glass and his courtiers followed his example. Lifting high crystal goblets of wine. They drank.

Aelin stood too. Placing her goblet down and clearing her throat. "My lord." She said with a sweet smile. Rowan buried his face in a hand. Aedion muttered something that sounded like, 'shit stirrer.'

Aelin ignored them, "Thank you for honouring us with this fine meal." She made a show of fluttering her eyes. "I just want to tell you what a pleasure it is to be back in Adarlan. We are so grateful that you agreed to host us during this time of crisis." She dropped her voice dramatically.

"Times are dark and now more than ever, we must stick together."

She raised her glass again. "Thank you."

She retook her seat, placing her hand on Rowan's knee under the table. He still had his face smashed into his palm. The king opened his mouth to say something, maybe thank her for her speech, maybe to curse her to hell, but right then the doors burst open and Ansel of Briarcliff strode in. A newly human and thankfully clothed, Fenrys on her heels.

The king sank back into his seat with a disheartened expression, looking for all the world like he wished they would all vanish into thin air.

"You started dinner without me?" Ansel faked hurt.

Aelin gave her a shit eating grin that made some of the courtiers quake in their ridiculously gaudy gowns. "Of course not. I saved you a seat." She motioned for Aedion, sitting on her other side, to move.

He did so grudgingly, but with little resistance.

The two girls shared a smile. They looked strange together. The pale haired beauty and the red headed warrior. The angel with her halo and the devil with her forked silver tongue.

Of all of her friends, Aelin mused, Ansel may very well be the most dangerous. She had a rough upbringing. Her best friend- murdered by an Irontooth Witch. When she was twelve, her father and sister, killed by a conquering tyrant.

She had then been chased into the arms of the Silent Assassins of the Red Desert. It was clear to Aelin that it never would have worked out, the girl had a sharp tongue and the wits to back it up.

She wasn't as smart as Elide or gifted like Lysandra but there was a fire that burned behind her eyes, fueled by her loss and pain. It was quite like Aelin's flames, quite like the red of Ansel's hair, hot and consuming. Dangerous.

Ansel slid into the seat and Fenrys took up occupation of one down the far end of the table, next to Chaol and the two immediately struck up an argument. Probably about the best way to disembowel a man. Strike that. That is most definitely what it was about.

"Where do we go from here?" Aelin asked her friend quietly so the others sitting at the dinner table could not hear them. "I didn't actually think about that part."

Ansel looked like she was holding back a smirk, but remained somewhat sober. "I talked to Dorian just before. The army is now in the Western Wastes. They landed in the Gulf of Oro, went through the Bogdano Jungle and they're now just outside the White Fang Mountains, on the border between the Wastes and Adarlan. The Adarlian armies are holding them back. Barely." The tone she used when she said that was derisive and mocking. And suddenly, Aelin realised why they had brought Ansel in. She was lethal, a killing machine. No mercy, no remorse. When the Adarlian Armies inevitably failed, Ansel would fight, and die. But you could be sure that she would take at least half of the opposing forces with her.

"I got here just before they reached the Mountains, I'm cut off from the wastes now. I can't return home." Ansel continued, unaware of Aelin's inner turmoil.

The two continued their discussion through the rest of dinner, and when the meal was over, they headed for the war room, the others departing for the guest chambers where Aelin and her Cadre were staying. After they had picked up a few things, they headed that way too, steps slow, both dreading what was to come next.

The rest of the group were already there waiting for them.

They all gathered in the gaming room, somber and serious. All the jesting and smiling from that evening's meal was gone.

Lorcan brooded in the back of the room, his eyes never leaving Elide as she sat at the table, staring at the page of a book.

Lysandra was turning a pool cue over and over in her hands, looking alarmingly like she was debating hitting someone over the head with it. Aedion was juggling the balls.

Dorian and Chaol were having an intense game of paper-scissors-rock, gods knew why. Nehemia was standing behind Elide's chair, occasionally pointing things out on the pages.

Fenrys greeted them at the door like the big puppy he was. "This is so depressing." He moaned, "Everybody's brooding and I think Rowan has developed separation anxiety from the five seconds that Aelin was out of his sight."

Rowan rolled his eyes as he came towards them, kissing Aelin sweetly on the cheek and baring his teeth at Fenrys. The younger fae shut up and proceeded to all but plaster himself to Ansel's back.

"It's like he actually _is _a puppy." Rowan muttered in Aelin's ear, making her laugh.

Ansel spread the maps and tokens over the table. Elide and Nehemia stood up to help her lay them out- Ansel directing them.

When the table was set, they all gathered round. Crowding and jostling for space.

Nehemia pointed to a spot on the table, just on the edge of the Western Wastes. "This is where the army is now."

Aedion held up a hand. "Wait a second. Can you first tell us where the army is from? Rhoe was very secretive about it all."

"As far as we know, the army came from the West." Nehemia said. "My mother managed to get a message to Wendlyn, they identified the only mapped country down there."

She turned the book around on the table, stabbing a finger at the pages. " Gailemara."

The picture in the book showed rocky mountains with vicious jagged peaks.

"It's their territory." Elide realised. "The mountains, it's why they picked that particular spot. They could have entered Adarlan from anywhere. They could have gone through Eyllwe. They also could have gone straight into Adarlian territory," Elide pointed a finger towards the map. "Here."

Rowan leant over the table, eyes scanning. "They had no need to go to the jungle. Or the Wastes.

They picked that spot because they know the terrain. There." Rowan touched another spot on the map. "This would be the place they attack. The most dangerous, wild. They know how to fight there, we don't."

"But.." Aedion broke off for a second. "If the armies are fighting in the Western Wastes right now. Then they intend to push us back into the mountains. They aren't expecting a surrender."  
They all shared a moment of silence, struck by the realisation.  
"They haven't come to conquer." Lysandra said. "They came to kill."

Aelin pointed to the black tokens on the board. "These are the opposing armies?"

Ansel nodded, "And this is us." She nodded at the pale blue tokens.

"It doesn't make sense." Dorian said. "Even if they wanted to trap us in the mountains, they could have come from here". He tapped another spot, just on the border between Eyllwe and Ardarlan. " They didn't need to go through the wastes."

Ansel leaned over the map, hair falling in her scarred face. "Unless… unless, Ardarlan isn't their target."

Fenrys too moved in closer, " Taking that into consideration, they went through the Wastes, obviously they were trying to get North. The they realise that an army that size wouldn't survive that trip. " Aelin rested her finger on the map. Let it travel upwards. To Terrasen. "I know what they are after."

Rowan had apparently realised at the same time as she had. "The Lord of the North. They want to capture the Stag.

…

**Elide:**

It made so much sense now. The Lord of the North kept the land alive. It was the heart and soul of Terrasen. The reason that the land was so lush and fertile. Gailemara was all rock and hard soil. They had to have brutal winters and summers not much warmer than above freezing.

They were in the Wastes now, pushing the Adarlian forces back into the mountains. The Eyllwe forces would be arriving soon and Terrasen would come soon after that but from what Elide had heard their efforts would be in vain. Their numbers were far too few and the enemies, far too great. Once they were pushed back into the mountains, they were dead.

"We can't let them take him." Aelin was muttering to herself, staring at the map. Fingers clutched like claws in her hair. "We can't let them take him."

Rowan was running soothing hands up her back.

"I don't know what to do." Nehemia said. " Wendlyn refuses to have no way to contact the South."

And then it hit Elide, she stood up. Studying the map, hope began to brew in her heart.

"I-" She said slowly. " If they are where I think they are..."

"What?" Chaol demanded. "For the gods sake what?!"

Elide beamed so brightly that her face hurt. "I know where we can find help. And I know a way to get a message to them."


	7. The Witch of the Wastes

**Manon:**

The wind whipped Manon's hair back. The strands of silver snapped and blew around her face. She loved this feeling, the wind whistling in her ears, desert wind on her tongue. The rush of adrenaline from being this high up.

Abraxos's powerful wings beating at the wind, his muscles working beneath her.

He had grown. When she had acquired him, or he adopted her, depending on the way you looked at it, he had been broken. The runt of the litter, he had been used as a bait beast his whole life until he had saved Manon from a rampaging bull who had broken free of his handlers.

She had claimed him as hers immediately.

That kind of cunning and intelligence was rare these days. Not that he was particularly ruthless, the worm loved wildflowers for goddesses sake! But she would rather a smart mount than a stupid one. She had replaced his broken teeth with steel ones like her own and replaced his clipped claws with those made of Iron. His broken wings, she had reinforced with Spider Silk, which had been a bitch to acquire but worth it in the long run.

They had once told her that Abraxos would never fly and now he was one of the fastest Wyverns in the fleet. Save maybe Narene.

That thought had Manon glancing to her left where Asterin flew, her blonde hair trailing behind her, black leathers glinting in the weak sunlight. The sky was painted in streaks of blood red, the coming dusk doing little to lessen the oppressing heat. Asterin caught her looking out of the corner of her eye and waved, baring her human teeth. They were flying with the rest of the Thirteen after a long day of politics and rigorous training exercises, helping the newest witches master their Wyverns.

When Manon had slain her grandmother for being a corrupt queen, she had not expected the amount of pressure that came with leadership. Luckily with Asterin as her Wing Leader, she had the might of her Thirteen behind her, the witches that she had trained with since she was a young witchling.

Asterin of course, her trusted cousin and second, and Sorrel, her level-headed third. Vesta, the red-headed vixen. The demon twins with their green eyes, Faline and Falon. The two lovers, Thea and Kaya. Her two shadows, Edda and Briar, as quiet as the wind and as deadly as a hurricane. Olive skinned Lin and deadly intelligent Ghislaine. Obedient, brave Imogen.

To be honest, they did most of the work, Asterin, Sorrel and Ghislaine handling most of the diplomacy and the others acting as bodyguards and enforcers.

Manon smiled as Asterin dove forward on Narene and executed a perfect spiral. Abraxos snorted and dove after her the rest of them following in her wake. As they got closer to the ground they could see all of the fires flickering, the extremely extensive camp of the Blackbeak Witches. All of the tents pitched in the desert, wyverns harnessed to the frames. Some witches were gathered around communal fires, laughing and joking. Some leaning against their Wyverns, some not. (Most witches preferred live mounts but some were more traditional and opted for Ironwood brooms.)  
The Thirteen touched down on the red sands, most of them barely even waiting to land before leaping off their mounts.

They were all laughing. Manon had noticed that they were all happier, had been since Mother Blackbeak had died. The change that had occurred in a few short years was astounding. Most of the Thirteen peeled off, leading their Wyverns off to their respective tents.

Asterin and Ghislaine however, remained by Manon's side as a young Blackbeak witch walked up and dipped her head respectfully. "My Lady. Wing Leader. "She bowed her head to Ghislaine as well. "My Lady, there is somebody here to see you."

Manon rolled her eyes, she gestured to Asterin, "Deal with this please."

The Witch piped up nervously. "With all due respect, My Lady, they asked for you personally, and I think you might want to meet them."

Manon shared a look with Asterin and Ghislaine. "Fine." She turned back to the Witch. "Lead us there." The witch turned and began to walk away through the tents. Manon followed with her two companions, their Wyverns claws stirring up the sand. They were led through the tents to one of the biggest fires where all the Witches were in a huddle on one side and a dark haired beauty was perched on a log on the other side, hands bound, a Witche's iron nails at her throat. She managed to look regal despite being dirty and only wearing a thin silk robe. She looked bone weary and exhausted.

Manon marched up and stood before her, arms crossed over the chest of her flying leathers.

The girl didn't bow. Manon had to admire her gall. She didn't cower or avert her eyes. She stood tall and proud and regal.

"Speak." Manon demanded.

The girl raised an eyebrow at her and took a moment before saying. " My Lady, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Her tone conveyed anything but. She looked like there was somewhere she'd rather be.

Manon gestured impatiently, "Get on with it."

The dark haired beauty rolled her eyes. The Witch holding her dug her nails farther into her pale throat but didn't say a word.

"I am the emissary of the High Court of Terrasen. I was sent by Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth."

She sounded annoyed at having to be so formal.

Manon snorted and gestured to the Blackbeak Witch. "Release her."

The girl looked scandalised, "But-but-"

Manon snapped her iron teeth down, flicked out her nails and turned a glare on the insolent child. " _Now_."

The Witch let out an undignified squeal and quickly unbound the Raven-haired girl's hands, her own shaking too badly to simply slash through the ropes.

The Raven-haired girl sniffed and rubbed at her wrists where nasty red sores had begun to form.

"Sorry about that," Manon told her, actually half meaning it. "But caution and all, you understand."

The girl rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I do."

"You have a name?" Manon asked her, raising an eyebrow at the ignorance.

The girl offered her a hand, heedless of the iron nails still gracing Manon's fingertips. " Lysandra."

When their hands met, Manon could sense the dull hum of magic thrumming through her veins.

"Manon," Manon offered, removing her arm.

" I know." Lysandra said, " Elide told me. What she failed to inform me of was who exactly you were and how the two of you met."

If she hadn't known who Manon was before, she certainly did now.

Manon turned to Ghislaine and Asterin who had been hovering about her like guards, which, Manon supposed, they were. " You two-" She made a shooing motion with her hand, drawing her iron nails in slowly.

They hesitated but slowly departed, if this girl was truly sent by Elide Lochan, they had nothing to fear for her.

Manon nodded her head away from the tents and she and Lysandra wandered northward, following the first star of the evening.

They stopped a little way out from the tents, a hundred meters or so, and sat on top of a dune. Abraxos curled behind their backs and promptly fell asleep.  
" Worm." Manon muttered affectionately. Lysandra marveled at the Wyvern, trailing a hand up and down his scaly flank. "Gods, I have to learn this form."

Manon chose not to comment on her strange word choice.

" How do you know Elide?" Lysandra said, turning her still smiling face back to Manon, and Monon was suddenly struck with a funny feeling, the girl suddenly looked years younger. Less haughty and regal and more like the barley-out-of-her-teens girl that she really was.

"Three years ago," Manon told her, "Maybe four. I don't measure the passing of time really. My grandmother was still the queen of the Blackbeak Witches."

She paused, wondering where exactly to begin the story. " Elide was half starved, wandering the desert. She had escaped from a gang of scavengers who were selling young girls for gold. Goddess knows how she managed to escape with that cursed leg of hers. Me and my Thirteen hid her for many days, my Grandmother would never have allowed a human to reside among us, back then, I wouldn't have either.

But that girl… there is something special about her,"

Lysandra hummed her agreement.

" When my Grandmother discovered that we were hiding her, she dragged us out bound and gagged, said that she was going to make an example of us, 'this is what happens when you grow soft.'

As she was talking, spouting all this horseshit about righteousness and how we were traitors to our bloodline, Elide snuck up behind her and unbound us all. They hadn't bothered tying her up, thought she was too weak and human to attempt anything. She caused a diversion by making this huge explosion, she said something about pressurized air and fire or some crap, I was honestly too invested in not dying to pay too much attention.

She rode with me and my Thirteen when we flew to kill my Grandmother."

Manon continued.

"Her mount is still around here somewhere, the poor thing had lost her previous rider and she was so happy to fly again, the beast didn't let anyone near her until Elide came along. She's a wild thing.

I digress, we flew against my Grandmother. We killed many who were loyal to her, Elide killed the last one so Asterin and I could strike my Grandmother's killing blow."

Manon looked solemnly at Lysandra, letting all the steel of her will show through her eyes, "I owe her my life and I will do everything I can to repay her debt."

"That's good then," Lysandra said, smiling a wicked slow smile. "Because I have a favour to ask you, and it has a hefty price."

Manon already knew what she would ask. Already knew that she herself would agree. Goddess, she had gone soft.

She turned her head away from Lysandra and motioned toward a plant in the sand. It didn't look like much, just a sparse, scrubby thing. Thin wire-like leaves and small, pale purple flowers.  
"See that?" She said. " My ancestor was Rhiannon Crochan. The last Crochan queen. She was killed by an Irontooth Witch in the Witch Wars. With her dying breath, she cast a spell on everything you see before you here."

She gestured to the wasteland, to the sky. "_Blood to blood and soul to soul, together this was done, and only together can it be undone. Be the bridge, be the light. When iron melts, when flowers spring from fields of blood—let the land be witness, and return home._

When I slew my Grandmother and took over as Queen of the Witch Kingdom these flowers started to bloom. There weren't many, but no life had existed in the wastes for many years. Then a few months later, one of my Witches fell pregnant by her mortal lover. When she delivered a healthy, beautiful baby, we knew. Or rather, Elide figured it out. I was part Crochan. The curse recognised me as such. Crochan _and_ Irontooth blood in my veins bought this place back to life."

Lysandra was looking at her patiently, waiting for her to get to the point.

Manon sighed.  
"The point is, emissary- I am not my Grandmother. I am no Vulture, waiting for the lesser predators to rip each other to scraps before picking at the remains.

"If Elide wishes me to fight this war with her as she aided me, then I will do so. I will not see my world, the one I just got back, reduced to ashes. I will not be the one picking at scraps to survive the decimation. I will not benefit from others misfortune."

She rose to her feet, brushing sand off her leathers.

"Sleep. We ride for Adarlan at Dawn."

…

**Aelin: **

Lysandra had been gone for a week now and Aelin was going stir crazy. Again.

It was like she was back in Terrasen, planning, planning, planning. Gods damn this.

The entire reason she had run away was so that she could fight. Here she was, however, back in the exact same situation, just a different place.

The more time she spent here, the more opportunity for Rhoe to send people to retrieve her and drag her kicking and screaming, back to a life of parties and politics.

She may not have a plan for the war, might be completely unprepared. But she sure as Hellas was not going back to Terrasen. Not now.

Not when she had come so far.

Rowan came up behind her, where she was standing at the window, looking out over the glass wall.

Thankfully, they had quarters in the stone castle and they didn't have to reside in the glass monstrosity above.

He pushed a mug of steaming tea into her hand, pressed a kiss to her cheek. Buried his face in her neck.

Warmth enveloped her as his arms came around her. She reached back to run her hands through his hair.

He made a noise that was particularly like a purr. Aelin snickered and turned around into the circle of his arms and wrapped hers around his neck, setting the warm mug down on a side table.

"I hope I'm not going to regret this." Rowan said, humour evident in his voice.

"Hmm?" Aelin pressed her face into his shoulder-suddenly tired.

"Following you to the ends of the earth." Rowan teased, shifting his feet, swaying them in a slow circle.

They went round and round for a while, dancing with no music playing for a minute until Aelin replied, "I'm sorry." So quietly that Rowan almost doesn't hear her.

He pulled back slowly, gently extricating himself from her arms. "I _don't_ regret it," He told her solemnly, looking into her eyes. His own searching her face. Willing her to see his earnestness. "I would follow you anywhere, Fireheart."

She laughed and shook her head. Rowan pulled her back in to hug her again. "It's true."  
He said into her hair. "I would follow you anywhere. To the ends of the Earth. To a different world. I would follow you to Hellas, no questions asked."

Something warm bloomed in Aelin's core and she hid her smile in the crook of Rowan's neck.

"This war will kill us you know." She told him. Even though she was certain of his conviction, she wanted him to understand how much regret she would carry when all was said and done. "We will not come through this intact."

"I will follow you." Rowan promised again. "We all will."


	8. She was ours first

**Elide:**

Death flew on swift wings. Silent and deadly, bristling with scales and teeth.

Those who resided in the castle of Adarlan might have thought their world was ending.

There weren't many of them but with all the soldiers off to the war, they certainly could have torn the city apart unchecked. As it was, the day they came, villagers scattered and screamed, running for the safety of shops and houses. Children were whisked into arms and ones too old to be carried were seized by the hand and yanked away. Peddlers in the streets hurried to pack up their wares before the beasts swooped low over the city. Claws scraping over the roof tiles. Wings casting shadows on the sidewalks, courtesy of the sun beaming down from above, blissfully unaware of the impending darkness beneath it.

Locks fell firmly into place as cackles echoed through the now empty streets.

The dragon-like figures alighted in the courtyard of the stone castle and smaller forms, their riders, dismounted and gathered into a tight knit group. Their mounts pawing at the ground and snorting behind them.  
Elide watched it happen from a parapet high up. Watched as Aelin strode out of the castle to meet the new arrivals. Rowan and Aedion right behind her. Fenrys, back in wolf form, at her heels. Elide whirled away, hurrying down the steps, lilac gown swirling around her ankles. Steps echoing in the hallways. She detoured a little ways through the castle and knocked on Nehemia's door. The princess answered immediately. Dressed in a gown of blue and gold, she looked like she hadn't slept, which was exactly what they had exiled her to do. Instead she looked like she had been pouring over strategy books and fruitlessly rearranging the figures and tokens on the maps.

Elide wasn't guessing. SHe could see the maps and books on a table inside Nehemia's chambers. She was unsuccessfully trying to half close the door so Elide couldn't see them.

The girl rolled her eyes and dragged the Princess out by the hand, nudging the door closed behind them. As fast as she could with her limp she led her through the corridors. "They're here." She said quietly, heeding the servants cowering behind laundry baskets and platters of food, trying to stay out of view of the windows. Nehemia straightened immediately, adopting a poised air. Smoothing her hair. Schooling her face into a slightly impassive mask. It was amazing to watch. In a few seconds, Nehemia had gone from sleep deprived to cool and collected, the perfect ruler, perfect leader. She quickened her pace, slowing down when she noticed that Elide was having trouble keeping up.

The two girls hurried down the steps, Elide stopping where Fenrys and Lorcan were standing by the base.

Rowan and Aedion were flanking Aelin, as serious as stone statues. Chaol and another young boy that Elide had heard Dorian refer to as Ren were on either side of the Prince in question. As Nehemia strode up, a beefy man and a small frail girl came to stand on either side of her.

The white-haired witch queen was flanked by her blonde second Asterin and her steady third, Sorrel. Lysandra stood to Manon's side, waiting for the time when she was allowed to rejoin the Cadre.

The four groups were standing in a wide circle, three of them sizing the other up. The latter smiling around like this was a vaguely amusing tea party she had been invited to.

This was not joyous and full of laughter and memories as their previous reunions had been, this was a diplomatic meeting.

Four rulers and their left and right hands, each asking the others for help in a war that none of them could win by themselves.

Dorian was the first to break the silence. "We welcome you," He said formally, with a bow of his head, "Thank you for coming."

Manon rolled her eyes, "It wasn't you I came for, Princeling. Nor you," She said, looking toward Aelin and Nehemia. " I came because Elide Lochan asked me."

She tipped her head toward Aelin in a silent order. Elide could see Aelin fuming. She hated being ordered around-but without taking her eyes off Manon, she gestured with a hand for Elide to come forward. Elide did, heedless of the growling noise Lorcan made deep in his throat. If she had been anything like Aelin, she would have made a dog joke. Something about marking his territory, but this was neither the time nor place.

She strode forward, the hem of her gown becoming damp with the remnants of that morning's dew. She stopped when she reached Aelin. Something warm bumped against her back and she looked up to see that Lorcan was right up behind her, glaring openly at Manon and her followers. Manon, being the shit stirrer she was, ignored him, but snapped her iron teeth down and smiled at Elide. "Hello, Witchling." She said, voice rather akin to the purr of a car.

Lorcan snarled.

"Lorcan," Aelin snapped, but she looked bothered by the nom-de-guerre as well.

"You can't have her." He said, ignoring her and focusing all his attention on Manon. Asterin and Sorrel both unsheathed their iron nails. Whether over Lorcan's hostility toward their queen or over her, Elide didn't know.

"Lorcan." Elide hissed, elbowing him in the torso. He didn't even flinch.

"She was ours first." Lorcan said paying no mind to the tension between the parties. As thick as steel cables. "And you can't have her."

Manon raised an eyebrow. Lifting a cautioning hand at Asterin and Sorrel. "Contrariwise, Brute. I knew her longer and better than you."

Lorcan was shaking with silent rage now. Rowan and Aedion both had their hands on their weapons. Dorian and Nehemia's guards were doing the same. All looking ready to jump in front of their respective leaders.

"She belongs with us." Lorcan told the witch. "She is a member of my family."

And in that moment Manon was like a bomb. Elide could see it in her eyes. Her fuse was short, flickering. The slightest moment could set her off.

"She-" The Witch said, low and dangerously. "Is an Iron tooth witch. She is one of my Thirteen and she is not the property of any man."

Elide lost her patience with both of them. "I am owned by _nobody_." She snapped. She turned to Lorcan and shoved at his chest. "Go."

Aelin saw an opening and quickly took control of the situation. "Lorcan, back off."

It wasn't a request this time. It was a command. A Queen to the subject that was expected to obey.

Lorcan snarled at Manon one final time, whirled around and stormed back to Fenrys.

Lysandra gave Elide a look that conveyed both sympathy and amusement. Elide gritted her teeth and turned back toward Manon. "It's lovely to see you again, My Lady."

Manon snorted. "To Hellas with that horseshit." She strode forward and pulled Elide into a one armed, albeit crushing hug, that Elide knew was only half because she had missed her and the other half to wind Lorcan up. It worked.

Manon pulled back, doing a pretty crappy job of hiding her smile. Asterin stepped forward and squeezed her hand warmly, offering a smile free of Iron teeth. It would never stop amazing Elide, how much the Witches actually cared for her. They didn't let anyone see how much they actually cared for them and theirs, so afraid after a rule of tyranny and viciousness. The fact that they had greeted her so openly in front of an audience astounded her.

Sorrel actually went so far as to brush a hand over her hair.

"Thank you for coming." Elide told them.

Manon shrugged, "You asked us to come, so we came. Blackbeak's look after their own."

She would have said something equally supportive in reply but just at that moment, Ansel of Briarcliff stormed down the castle stair and marched towards them, breezing straight past Lorcan and Fenrys, the latter of whom, looked like a kicked puppy when she ignored him. She stopped when she reached the circle and just stood there with her arms crossed.

At Aelin's nod, Lysandra walked over to stand with the rest of the Cadre, the less people in the way of this potential explosion the better.

Nehemia looked like she was trying to hold back from rolling her eyes. Dorian was extremely unsubtly staring, enraptured, at Manon.

"Who are you?" Manon demanded, looking her up and down. To be fair, Ansel was dressed in Xandrian leather. It was made for the vast deserts, so it was light and built to withstand sandstorms as powerful as cheese graters. That did not mean, however, that it would withstand the streets of Adarlan, which was, without a doubt, the more dangerous terrain. She looked like a street girl, the kind that you see lurking in dark alleys, wearing tight leather clothes. The kind that would lure you into a room, knock you unconscious and you'd wake up hog tied with your coin bag and clothes gone.

"I am the Queen of the Western Wastes" Ansel said.

Manon raised her eyebrow. "What claim do you have on the wastes?"  
Ansel scoffed, "More than you, that's for sure."

Thank Mala, Manon looked more amused than upset. " Really?"

"Really." Ansel told her.

"The Iron tooth witches have resided in that land for thousands of years."

Ansel's face scrunched up in displeasure. "You gave up any claim to the Wastes when you decided to slaughter an innocent and she cursed the land with her dying breath."

Rhiannon Crochan was hardly innocent." Manon shook her head. "She slaughtered hundreds of Iron tooth witches."

"She was defending her city." Ansel snapped. " Against _your _attack!"

"Okay," Nehemia inserted herself into the situation. Elide was glad. Out of all of them, she was the most likely to resolve this without blood being shed. "I am Nehemia Ytger," Nehemia said," Princess of Eyllwe." She held out a hand to Manon. Right, as per tradition.

Manon hesitated before pressing her palm into Nehemia's and squeezing firmly.

Nehemia made a slight nodding movement of her head at Dorian. It didn't go unnoticed by Manon who looked like she was holding back a laugh.

Dorian, thank Mala, got the hint and nearly tripped over stepping forward. Chaol barely restrained himself from reaching over to steady him. Elide could see the exasperation written in the lines of his face.

"Uh-you can come with me." Dorian looked like he was dancing with glee inside. "I'll show you to your rooms then to dinner."

Manon held up a hand. "We don't want rooms thank you. All we need is a dry place, preferably warm. The Wyverns prefer the warmth."

Dorian looked surprised, "Uh, how about the stables? I can have the servants clean it up and put in beds. The Horses are all out to pasture any-"

"Excellent." Manon said with a dismissive flick of her wrist. "Take us there now please."

"I-ok." Dorian looked struck stupid. Completely gone.

Manon gestured to her Thirteen. They had been so silent that Elide had forgotten they were there. (She actually wasn't sure if the Shadows were there. They and their Wyverns were noticeably absent. They were probably off spying somewhere in the castle.)

They followed Manon, each walking past her and bestowing some sign of affection.

Asterin was the last to pass. Taking the younger girl by the hands and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Elide was the only person who Asterin had confided in about the hunter she had loved and her stillborn child.

The only person who had ever seen the crude scars across Asterin's stomach. _Unclean. _The words branded there by the Blackbeak Matron herself.

So she was the only one who understood the nurturing instinct that the Witch carried. "I missed you, sister." She said, so quietly that only Elide could hear her.

…

That night, before dinner, screams heralded the arrival of a new beast. Elide looked to Manon questioningly. "We aren't expecting anyone else." Manon told her. They hurried outside, shoving past the other people who had gathered to watch the spectacle. The crowds parted like the Red Sea in the face of Manon's bared Iron teeth. In the middle of a circle of people, was a Ivory white Wyvern.

Elide knew her.

Knew the legs, scarred and broken, just as hers were. Knew the Opalescent skin that shimmered like quartz. Knew the intelligent purple eyes.

"Get back." She yelled at the castle guards, advancing on the Wyvern. "Get back!"

They hesitated for a minute. "Do as she says." Aelin snapped, appearing out of the crowd. "Lower your weapons now."

Elide didn't have the chance to shoot her friend a grateful look. She limped forward, toward the beast. Aelin tried to follow her but she heard Manon intercept her, "You won't get near her." The white haired queen said. "Even I can't."

"Why are you letting her near it then?" Aelin demanded angrily.

The Wyvern was thrashing and snarling at anyone who dared get close, dragging her spiked tail through the dirt.

Rearing up on her back legs then slamming down on the spiked wings that acted as a second pair of limbs.

Elide whistled sharply. A two tone note that had the Wyvern's head snapping up and it's tail ceasing it's turned slowly, the barbs on its tail dragging huge furrows in the dirt. It cocked its head at her, listening, waiting.

"Lilith." Elide ordered as she had done many times before, " Hush." Lilith stopped the odd snorting keening sound she was making.

" Be still." Elide ordered and Lilith tucked her wings into her back and settled down. Eyes watchful and alert.

"Good girl." Elide walked forward and laid her hand on her triangular head, running her fingers up over the pale scales. Lilith made a low pleased noise in her belly.

"She wants to fly with you." Manon said, coming up behind her. Lilith snarled and she backed off a little. "She missed you."

Elide spared her a glance and held out her hand for the bridle she knew Manon kept on her belt. She quickly slipped it on, Lilith only making a small noise in protest.

Manon made a sharp whistle and Abraxos came soaring over the crowd, landing next to Manon who swung up onto his back.

Elide swung a leg over Lilith and the Wyvern rose so she was standing upright. With a keening call and a beat of her mighty wings, she was soaring into the sky, tail coiling behind her.

Manon shot after her, both of them stopping to hover when they could see all the way over the rooftops.

"Race you." Manon said devilishly.

"You never could beat me." Elide told her.

"You were never faster than me!"

"Whatever you say."

The feeling of flying again was euphoric.


	9. Happy Hour

**A/N: **

**Sorry this chapter was late, but I've been binging Supernatural with my awesome friends and I lost track of my updating schedule. They are trying to catch me up because I've never seen it before. I'm on season two (I know, I'm really behind) and it is absolutely incredible. **

**Lorcan:**

Lorcan was drinking and it wasn't even past noon.

It had to be happy hour somewhere in the world he supposed, but that didn't change the fact that he was absolutely and utterly out of it.

He downed another shot of whiskey, leaning heavily on the coffee table.

Those witches had ruined his life. They'd only been there three days and already Elide was inseparable from them. Flying that goddamned creature around the grounds with Manon and the rest of the demons. Making war plans with Nehemia and that chocolate skinned witch. Gwenevieve? Ghislaine? Something like that. Lorcan could honestly say he didn't care what her name was. He just knew he hated her. She was too smart, too conniving. Just the type of person Elide would associate herself with.

As for that Manon, Lorcan didn't see what the fuss was about. Everybody practically fell at her feet when she walked past. Either too scared or too in awe to look her in the eye. It was sickening, the way she smiled at Elide. The only witch Lorcan could claim to even remotely tolerate was the Queen's right hand, Asterin.

She was loyal, but to a fault. Lorcan had heard her challenge her leader multiple times over decisions that she agreed with. Not in public of course but the witches severely underestimated the power of Fae hearing.

She actually seemed to give a shit about Elide. Which earned her points immediately in Lorcan's book.

She was softer than the others somehow, but at the same time not. There was a different kind of steel in her eyes, loss, not just the brutality that came from an abusive upbringing.

Other than that, he hated them.

"Lorcan." Aelin said bluntly, dropping down onto a chair next to him. She leaned over him for the whiskey bottle. Holding it by the neck, she took a swig right out of it, ignoring the stack of empty glasses on the table.

Lorcan snatched it from her with a snarl but then drained the last drops of it himself. He barely refrained from smashing the empty bottle on the table.

Aelin ignored him and reached behind her for a second bottle off the counter. She held it out to Lorcan who used his Fae strength to wrench the cork out. She retracted it and took a swig, making a face as the liquid burned its way down her throat. She handed it to Lorcan and they passed it back and forth for a while. A long while. Before they knew it, the bottle was empty.

"Witches?" Aelin asked him finally, voice slurred a little from the alcohol.

"You too?" Lorcan grumbled back. They were both drunk. Too drunk considering the early hour.

Aelin made a sound of angry agreement. "The way their Queen hovers about Elide-"  
"What does she even want from her?" Lorcan finished, they both drink in silence contemplating the answer.  
"She won't leave with them." Aelin said, "When this is all over. She'll stay with us. Her family, she knows we love her." Lorcan could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "She seems so content in the skies though." Aelin continued and he was happy to listen to her ramble in silence. "That beast of hers, she loves it too. She finds it hard to ride horses you know, that leg of hers still hurts sometimes. She loves being able to be fast again. She likes the freedom."

With a final hiccuping sigh, Aelin laid her head down on her arms and proceeded to slip into a state of semi unconsciousness. Muttering to herself, unaware of anything else around her. Lorcan watched her for a bit, debating getting another bottle of alcohol out. He would have done it, but at that moment, Aedion and Rowan came bursting into the room, frantic and wide eyed.

Aedion started to say, "Have you seen-" When the both caught sight of her, dozing with her head on the table.

Rowan growled in frustration and stalked over, seizing the empty bottle off the table. He turned it around to read the label and slammed it back down in annoyance. "I can't believe you let her drink that."

Lorcan shrugged and picked up the bottle again. Putting it to his lips just in case there was residual alcohol inside. "I didn't _let _her do anything. She's a big girl. She can make her own decisions."

Rowan scooped Aelin out of the chair and hugged her close. She mumbled and shifted, her head rolling back and Rowan accommodated her movements with ease.

When she was curled up like this, Lorcan could see just how much these past few weeks had taken a toll on her. Her hair was a rat's nest. There were dark bruises under her eyes.

Gods damn. He was sure the others had noticed. Why else would Fenrys have been so determined? Following her cross-country, just to make sure she was alright.

No wonder Rowan was so over the top protective. Snarly and moody.

No wonder Elide had thrown herself so desperately into planning, determined to finish this as quickly as possible.

And Aedion and Lysandra, obeying every order without question, knowing that one wrong step would cause the Princess to break.

How was he always the last to notice these things?

...

On the eve of her and Rowan's first anniversary, Aelin had made him a promise.

He remembered being surprised when she had pulled him outside. Rowan, nowhere to be seen.

'Sorry to pull you away from the festivities' She had said, voice dry and full of humour. She knew he hated parties. It was just another one of the things that made them so different.

He had shrugged and asked what she wanted.

She had looked at him with sad eyes, then turned her gaze to the Lord of the North, beaming down at them from the heavens. It was suspiciously bright that night. The stars, seeming to glow with opalescent fire. 'I know you feel like an outsider, Lorcan.' She had told him.

And he covered his hurt with a scoff. Did she really hate him that much? Was she kicking him out? Fine, it wasn't like he cared. He could finally go back to Maeve. Finally go … home? Was Wendlyn still his home though, really?

Aelin looked at him again, sorrow so evident in her eyes. In that moment, she wasn't the carefree, happy girl he had come to know. She was the Princess of a kingdom, with responsibilities and burdens far greater than someone her age should have to bear. She had been all alone with the weight, and the help she had been handed like a reprieve from a death squad might just have been too little, too late.

'You shouldn't need to feel like an outsider.' She had said and taken him by the hands. The earnest look in her eyes was so strong that he had to look away. It was like she was begging him, willing him to believe her.

She said, 'Lorcan Salvatterre, I swear to you on my crown, that as long as you support us in times of need, we will support you. That's how family works. You will always be a member of this family, our family, so long as you wish to be.' She had released his hands and smiled up at him. Softly. He didn't think she's ever looked at him like that before, with such fondness. 'We care about you, Lorcan. Even though it doesn't seem like it sometimes. Just remember, no matter how lonely you feel, we will always be here for you.' Then she was gone, and Lorcan was left, all by himself, struck stupid. The Lord of the North, the only witness to the single tear that fell down his cheek.

**Aedion:**

Lysandra was sitting in his chambers when he walked in, curled up in a chair next to the window, watching with her head on her knees as the Wyvern's outside swooped and dove through the sky.

He took a seat next to her, sitting heavily. God's he was tired. They all were. Aedion had been run ragged. Fetching things for Aelin, settling disputes between the Adarlian's and the Iron teeth witches. There had been one incident in the square when one of the vendors had- it was too horrible to think about. The memory made Aedion shudder.

Then there was Rowan, who ordered him around like a puppy. It was infuriating. The fae prince acted like he didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. That he was expendable. Aedion toughed it out though, for Aelin.

Lysandra leaned her head against his arm. Rubbing back and forth like the cat form she sometimes liked to assume. She hadn't used her powers in a while, too busy with planning Aelin's wedding and then their impromptu road trip. And now, they were doing their best to make it easier for everyone.

They two were the ones taking the brunt of everyone's aggression. Aedion knew for a fact that Lysandra had been crying the other night because Chaol had yelled at her. Calling her useless and incompotent and some other unsavoury names. Aedion knew tensions were running high, but he had damn well felt like ripping the Lordling's head off.

The thing is, this wasn't even the part he was worried about the most. He was terrified of the fallout, whichever way this ended. No outcome was better than the other.

Option A. They would all die. The Gailemarian's would slaughter them all, they would take the Lord of the North and their kingdom would die.

Option B. They would win and then Aelin would be back in the same position she was before, they all would. Cooped up in a castle. All expected to perform gender-conformative roles.

Lysandra voiced his concerns, "I'm tired." She told him, "And scared."

He knew how much of a struggle it was for her to say those three words. All her life she had spent hiding away her fear and anxiety, putting up a strong, composed front that nobody, not even her family, was allowed to see past.

"I'm worried this war is going to destroy all of us."  
"Me too." Aedion told her after a pause. "But we can't think about it right now. We'll be no use to anyone if we don't get some sleep."

Lysandra went completely still. "Can-" She stopped herself. If Aedion hadn't known any better he would have said she sounded shy.

"Can I stay the night? Please?" She rushed ahead before he could answer. "I just, I'll feel safer. Besides, I'm convinced that there is a secret passage in my room that the servants are using to spy on me."

Aedion huffed a laugh. "Yeah, of course."

They got up together and walked over to the bed. Aedion got in one side and Lysandra slipped under the covers on the other. The mattress dipped under the extra weight as Lysandra slid towards him, seeking body heat and warmth. He rested his chin on the top of her head.

It took a few hours of restless tossing and turning, hogging covers and kicking for room before Lysandra drifted into a fitful sleep. Curled firmly into his side.

Even then, it took another half hour for Aedion to drift off so he just lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Praying to whatever gods were out there for a happy ending.


End file.
